


A Kiss In White

by Anonymous



Category: Real Person Fiction, Video Blogging RPF, Youtuber RPF
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Annus - Markiplier, Egos, First Kiss, French Kissing, Hickeys, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Krymménos, Light Angst, Light hurt, M/M, Markiplier ego, Markiplier's Alters, Markiplier's Egos, Mentioned Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson, No Cheating (?), Pining, Reality Bending, Reality Warping, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, Unus Annus, Unus Annus - Markiplier, Unus Annus - Youtube, angst no comfort, heavy kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27378784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The first time Mark kisses Ethan, he's wearing white.
Relationships: Ethan Nestor/Annus, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 197
Collections: Anonymous





	A Kiss In White

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note - This is not connected to nor relevant to Meet Me In Black. This is a standalone work and simply the result of someone asking for a similar work from Ethan's perspective.  
> As always, this work is intended as a creative outlet and is not an accurate depiction of nor intended as disrespect towards the persons mentioned; their friends; family; representatives or romantic partners. Please do not send this work to any of the aforementioned persons.  
> Remember; treat people with kindness.  
> -JJH

The house was completely dark when he unlocked the door, which was puzzling, because he knew for a fact he'd left at least two lights on before he'd left. In fact, the last few hours had been kind of weird. Darkness had enveloped the sky in record time, and every time so far that he'd glanced at the clock it seemed like hours were moving in the space of minutes. It had been light-ish when he'd popped into the grocery store, and when he'd stepped out it had been near pitch black. 

"Kathryn?" He called, but there was no response. That wasn't atypical in itself - but something still felt... _Off_ about this whole scenario. A sensation that crawled up his spine and whispered in his ear that there was nothing not entirely whole about this moment. He shuddered and set his keys down, feeling his way into the hall. It took a few tries to find the light switch, and his heart sank when he flipped it and nothing happened. 

Maybe the fuses had blown. That was fine. Annoying, but fine. He could fix that. 

"Kath? You home?" He tried again. He strained, but there was nothing. 

Not even the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. 

He frowned and tugged on the hem of his sweater as he shuffled further into the house. It wasn't completely pitch black in here, and there was enough dim light from the street lights outside filtering through that he could more or less pad along without crashing into anything too much. "Spencer?" He called, squinting into the dimness. "Spence? Here, boy!" He whistled and waited but there was no little _clack clack clack_ of claws or answering bark. 

Had he asked Kathryn to walk him today? He couldn't remember. Or maybe Evan - He wouldn't be surprised if it had simply slipped his mind. He didn't ask them often but Unus Annus filming had been hectic as of late, so it was plausible that he'd done so and simply forgotten. 

He pulled his phone out and glanced at it. No new messages. 

Spencer wasn't _always_ the type of dog to bolt out of an open doorway. 

Somewhat. 

God, he hoped Spencer hadn't gotten loose. 

He padded further into the room and was about to pass through to the kitchen when he paused. He didn't have a big, fancy window wall like Mark did, but he did have a glass door, and at a glimpse it looked as though someone was standing outside. His heart leapt in his throat and for a moment his mind filled with obtrusive thoughts of being kidnapped or murdered, or of ghosts following him home from all those creepy and ghost-themed videos they'd done. 

"I'm too young to die," he announced weakly to the room, hunching in on himself a little. "I still haven't tried anal". 

Probably not the most pressing thing to stay alive for, but. 

There was no reply, and the more he stared the more he doubted it was an actual person. His yard was enclosed and it was more than likely light catching on the smudges on the glass. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cleaned that door. 

Still. 

"Please don't be a ghost," he willed as he shuffled towards the glass. Cold seemed to seep through it, even though it wasn't all that chilly outside. He held his breath the closer he got, until he came to a atop and peered at the fuzzy, white shape. 

It wasn't outside. It almost appeared to be on the glass, or maybe even in it. It was murky, hazy, and he squinted, trying to decipher why it seemed almost familiar. Like he knew what shape it was trying to resemble. 

As he stared the shape seemed to slowly become clearer and clearer, like a camera focusing. He was so enthralled by trying to figure it out that when he realised there was a face staring back at him he baulked, jerking backwards with a yelp. 

It was _Mark_. Staring at him via the glass, hair falling around his face in loose waves, stark against the dim backdrop in the white Annus suit. Instinct told him to turn around but something kept him pinned face forwards, watching Mark watch him over his right shoulder. 

"M-Mark? What are you...What are you doing, buddy?" His voice came out trembling and cautious, and Mark's head tipped slightly to one side. 

"I'm sorry if I scared you," Mark answered after a moment. His voice was even lower than usual, gravelly and slow, like he was thinking of each word before he spoke it. 

Ethan's heart was thundering in his chest like a race horse. The room felt, quite suddenly, very cold. He forced a wavering smile, the hairs on his arms standing up. "I-Its okay, man. Is this...Is this another video?" 

Mark didn't always tell him what they were filming. Sometimes due to a lack of time, others because he wanted Ethan's authentic reactions to the scenario. 

"No. There's no cameras. No little crew...Just...Us" Mark breathed, the corners of his mouth lifting in the slightest of smiles. 

Ethan frowned slightly, fidgeting a little on the spot. For a moment, it almost seemed like his breath fogged in the air when he breathed out. "So, uh, what...?"

"I came to see you," Mark murmured when he'd stopped speaking, leaning forwards a little, still keeping eye contact through the glass. He looked like a ghost, there. Semi-transparent and hazy, almost all greyscale. 

He felt a cool breath on his ear and shivered, lashes dipping when Mark nosed lightly into the hair around his ear. Even from the corner of his eye, Ethan couldn't actually _see_ Mark there. 

Mark's nose trailed through his hair, inhaling deeply, slowly. It made Ethan shiver again and he gripped the cuffs of his sleeves, teeth sinking into his lip. "What are you doing?" He whispered, voice fragile. 

"I missed you," Mark rumbled in response, liquid granite as he let his gaze drop for a moment, eyed closed, then looked at Ethan again through the glass. Ethan could only stare helplessly back, mind racing over itself. 

"You're so warm. So full of life. So vibrant. I forget what that's like, sometimes," Mark murmured into his hair, and Ethan shuddered as Mark's left hand came up around his shoulder, a cool set of knuckles brushing along the hinge of his jaw. 

A squeak bubbled up in his throat, nervous and on edge. Mark smiled, a small and secretive thing half hidden by the fluffy wisps of their hair. 

Mark always ran hot. 

Perhaps that should have been his first clue. But he was always so distracted, especially when it came to Mark. Mark 'don't touch me' Fischbach who was now practically pressed against him, much more than Mark would ordinarily tolerate. His right hand slid through the air in front of Ethan's chest, fingertips brushing the pulse point in his throat lightly. It fluttered beneath the touch, skittish and afraid. 

"So alive," Mark whispered in his ear, lips trailing the sensitive skin lightly. Ethan's legs felt weak and shaky, as though he'd just run a mile or done too many lifts. It surpassed even the sensation that always took over him whenever Mark touched him; toeing the line of something almost primal. Mark was outing so out of character but so almost in-line with what Ethan wanted that he couldn't bring himself to make any movement that might stop it. 

"Mark...What is this?" He managed, tugging on the hem of his shirt. Mark looked up, catching his gaze in the mirror with a slow smile. 

"I'm making the most of the time I have left," Mark murmured back, fingertips sliding up, gentle on the edge of his jaw as he turned Ethan's head slowly. He saw him for real then, up close and real, not just a ghost in the reflection. His eyes were dark but bright simultaneously, gaze heated when their eyes met. He was so close he could almost count the individual lashes that framed them. 

"Isn't that the point of all this, Ethan? Making the most of it before the countdown hits zero? Taking what you want because you're on a limited run?" Mark continued lowly, cupping his jaw slightly, gaze dropping down to his mouth. 

Ethan felt like he might pass out. 

In all the years he'd known Mark, he'd never known anything like this. Mark was straight, and comfortably so. Mark loved Amy. Loved her unconditionally and with the intent to make her his wife one day. 

"This isn't...Please don't do this. Don't open that door, Mark. Not this one. _Please_ ". He could feel tears sting at his eyes and he hated himself for it. He thought he'd done a good enough job at pretending his affections for Mark started and stopped at platonic, but evidently not. 

This was unusually cruel, especially for Mark. 

"Oh, Ethan," Mark whispered sadly, smiling slightly. "Its far too late for that. I've taken that door right off its hinges". 

He couldn't breathe. 

"But Amy-"

"Well taken care of. This is between you and I," Mark murmured, gaze meeting his eyes briefly before dropping back down to his mouth, leaning just an inch closer, until they were breathing the same air. 

"I've watched you for so long, now. I've _wanted_ for so long. And time is running out". Mark's voice was deep, honey-thick and slow as he spoke. A cold thumb brushed the corner of his mouth. 

"Tell me you want this. Give me permission". 

That, at least, was like Mark. Ethan's head was swimming and he felt almost like he had back when he'd had an allergic reaction. Heady, dizzy, not quite in his own body. He wanted to look down and check his arms for hives, but Mark's eyes had trapped him steadfast. 

If he said yes...That changed everything. Where would he even fit, between Mark and Amy? What would he be? Was this a one time thing like those 'hall passes' every couple joked about? 

If he said no...Would he lose it all? Would that be it for him and Mark, reduced to awkward sometimes collabs, ghost memories of a life once lived and a friendship once formed? 

"Permission for what?" He asked faintly, painfully aware of how reedy and weak his voice came out. Of the two of them he seemed to be the only one affected by this entire scenario. 

Mark's gaze was hot and heavy, and he merely smiled in answer, slow and knowing. They both knew what. They both knew the destination this road led to, if they both took it. Mark knew that Ethan wasn't stupid enough to have not caught on and likewise, Ethan knew Mark knew. 

It made his head hurt. 

"I can't...This _can't_ be a joke," he whispered after a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. "If you do this, you _can't_ take it back".

"Nobody can change the past, Ethan. What's done is done. Reality is only what you make it," Mark murmured, voice grit and gravel in his ear. It sounded like something straight out of an Unus Annus script, but before he could comment on it Mark's fingers were gentle on his jaw, a light pressure that tipped his head upwards just the barest inch. Mark's breath was minty and warm when he exhaled, and then they were kissing. 

A gentle press of the lips. Stubble prickling the corners of his mouth. The scent of Mark's aftershave. Mark's mouth was cool and light against his own, lips ever so slightly chapped. For a moment neither of them moved, and it was almost like kissing a corpse, if not for how Ethan's heart fluttered between them. 

And then Mark breathed out and Ethan whimpered, and there were hands on his shoulders, turning and guiding and pressing him up against the ice cold glass of the window without ever breaking the kiss. He was surrounded by the cold but none of it mattered when Mark licked into his mouth, lips parted against his own, one hand sliding to his chest and the other to his neck, fingers pressing gently under his neck, feeling where his pulse flit about like a hummingbird. 

"I can taste your mortality," Mark murmured against his mouth, and Ethan let out a muffled, pathetic sound, scrabbling at the front of Mark's suit, fingers catching around his tie. Mark's hair was soft between his fingers when he dragged his other hand through it, his body firm and grounding when their tongues slid together and Ethan's knees threatened to give out on him. The silk of Mark's tie was soft under his fingertips when he curled a hand around it, using it to pull him closer. 

Mark's hands slid down, lower, lower, under his thighs. Lifted him up as easily as lifting paper. He felt like paper, too. Thin and weak and floppy in his hands. Wrapping his legs around Mark's waist felt like anchoring a ship. It startled a moan from him, breathy and delighted. Mark's mouth trailed down his jaw, to his neck, lips and teeth and tongue on the spot where his throat was the most vulnerable. He let his head fall back against the glass with a thump, shivering as teeth scraped along his neck. 

He lost time there. Suspended somewhere between apprehension, elation and lust. He was dizzyingly hard and lost for breath by the time Mark kissed him again, leaving a trail of aching and dark stains against his skin along the way. A hand squeezed his thigh and another pulled his hair and whimpered, chasing after Mark's mouth when he pulled away just a fraction. 

"The timer has run out," Mark whispered against his mouth, kissing him again, and kissing him back was like wading through molasses. The darkness crept along the edges of his vision, stalking him, and no matter how quickly he tried to run from it it only gained more ground. 

"Mark?" He whispered, pawing at him pathetically as his head lolled, dropping down against a strong chest. 

Maybe it was the layers of the suit, maybe it was how suddenly sleepy and hazy he felt, but there was no heartbeat beneath his cheek. 

_"Wrong name,"_ the other whispered softly, and then there was nothing but darkness and emptiness. 

Nothing, until he shot awake with a gasp, turning his head against his pillow and moaning at the deep ache in his neck, the chill in his fingertips. He felt blindly for his phone and squinted at it for the time before he rolled over, reaching out for a body that wasn't there. 

"Mark?"

Silence. 

He could've sworn...He pushed himself upright, sitting back against the headboard, phone cradled to his chest as he looked around the room. The house was silent save for a dog barking somewhere in the street outside, and morning sunshine filtered through a gap in his curtains. He let out a slow and shaky breath, thumbing open his phone. There were a few messages, and one from Mark. 

**[Mark]**   
**Call me when you're awake and we can get started on planning for today.**   
**[07:32]**

He frowned at the message, one hand drifting down to idly rub at his thigh, where it almost still felt as though Mark's handprints would be there. It _had_ to have been a dream, then. Surely. He couldn't remember going to bed last night but he must've, because he'd woken up in it. Woken up in bed alone. After kissing Mark. Mark in the white Annus suit. He cursed himself softly, cheeks flushing. Of _course_ it'd been just a dream. That narrative was impossible in real life. 

And yet...

He tapped the call button and let his eyes close as he listened to it ring. Mark picked up on the fourth cycle and sounded cheerful when he greeted him with "up earlier than normal, lazy. You ready for the day?"

He sucked in a sharp breath. Shivered as he recalled that same voice pitched low in his ear, remembered the feel of the lips it came from against his own. His voice came out as nothing but a squeak but he first tried to respond, and he had to cough and try again. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. I've got...Did you come over last night? After I left?"

"No, why?" Mark sounded distracted, perhaps a little confused. He was probably working on something as he talked. Ethan frowned and pushed the covers off his legs, pulling himself to his feet. He felt sluggish and wobbly, tired like he hadn't slept at all that night. 

"Are you _sure_?" He asked as he pushed himself to his feet, wandering out of his room and down the hall towards the bathroom. 

"Pretty sure. I mean, you can always ask Amy for confirmation. She's got an _extremely_ solid alibi for me being there". He could practically _hear_ the smirk in Mark's voice, the hidden implication, and he felt sick to his stomach as he turned on the bathroom light. "Why?" Mark asked curiously after a pause filled only with silence. 

"Nothing," Ethan whispered, touching a shaking fingertip to one of the dark purple marks splotched on the pale skin of his neck. "It must've been a dream".

**Author's Note:**

> I spent £340 on the UA restock at three in the morning. It took me four hours to get through checkout.  
> Momento mori.  
> RIP my bank account.  
> -JJH


End file.
